The Pursued and the Tired
by BittersweetDeceit
Summary: Kurt Hummel was living the life of a finally settled Carrie Bradshaw - he owned an apartment in New York City, he had a job at a place he loved, and he was so absolutely in love with a man who loved in return and told him every day - Adam Crawford. Everything would be perfect if an annoying ghost of his past would stop hanging around in the form of Blaine Anderson.
1. Oh, the Castles We'd Live In

**A/N There is a severe lack of Kadam on this site, especially in multi-chapter stories. I am here to remedy that! So enjoy this new fic, which is also on Ao3! **

_**The Pursued and the Tired**_

_Chapter 1_

Kurt's arms were straining against the tight sleeves of his sweatshirt, sweat dripping down from his brow onto his cheek. Huffing, he placed down the heavy box on top of the others and surveyed his work with an immature hatred. He could just feel his hair drooping away from their perfectly executed bounds, and that, accompanied with the sure red flare on his cheeks, infuriated him in the most irrational way.

He was standing amongst taped boxes of all sizes, stacked like a game of Jenga, and haphazard pieces of furniture. The room had a low ceiling, and the paint was chipping on the walls in the main foyer – if you could even call it a foyer, it was really just their living room with a top hat – and Kurt was sure someone had died in the bedroom, as he liked to whisper, scandalized, with wide eyes.

It's a small apartment, holding only a single bedroom, a single bathroom, and a living room with a practically miniscule, built-in kitchen in the corner. There was hardly enough space for all of Kurt's clothes, but he was promised a hole would be cut into their neighbor's apartment, if it came to that, to accommodate Kurt's wardrobe.

Kurt Hummel was nineteen, in his mere sophomore year of New York Academy of Dramatic Arts, and was already renting his second apartment in New York City, having only arrived to this luxurious city a year and some ago. In his detailed dreams of future interviews on late night talk shows, Kurt would be asked if he ever knew he would end up in this position. "No," he would reply, smiling, "but who's complaining?"

He sighed and wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, grimacing at the sheen of moisture. "Damn," he muttered to himself, "this body was not made for heavy lifting."

Suddenly, soft, padded shoes came running into the room, and a box fell uncouthly to the floor, and before Kurt had the sense to realize that he probably should have closed the door after coming in, he was being swept up into a pair arms, his feet off the ground.

Later, Kurt would regret the squeal of surprise that left his mouth. He craned his neck at an almost painful degree to see what was happening in his first haze of confusion, but soon he felt the cold metal of a necklace pendant against his neck. He sighed happily, a grin on his face.

He smacked the arms that were holding him lightly, giggles pouring out of his parted lips. "Adam!" he chastised mockingly, "Let me down!"

"Come on, Kurt," Adam whined, beginning to twirl them around amidst the boxes, "All work and no play?"

"There will be play if you would just let me down! We just need to finish – "

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, love. I just brought up the very last box," Adam said, setting Kurt right on his feet. Kurt's grin lessened in suspicion as he readjusted himself and looked up into Adam's eyes.

"Is that so?" he asked, narrowing his eyes playfully. Adam nodded and took a step back, throwing his arms open wide and presenting the room to Kurt. Kurt placed his chin in his hand, and regarded the multitude of boxes around him with amusement. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely positive," Adam said, stepping forward once again and pulling Kurt into a hug, feeling him relax in his arms. "Welcome home, Kurt!"

"To you, too, Adam," Kurt mumbled, nuzzling into the warm embrace. He sighed. "You know what we should do now?"

"I can think of a few things…" Adam replied softly, his hands stroking slowly up and down Kurt's back.

"Oh, good, so we're on the same page." Kurt pulled away from the hug and looked up at Adam with mischief. Adam grinned and leaned in, lips only beginning to purse when he was met with a rush of air against his face.

"Let's start unpacking!" Kurt exclaimed from behind a tower of boxes, completely hidden from view. Adam groaned lightly, but a smile made its way onto his lips, nonetheless.

Adam Crawford was twenty-three years old and had only just graduated from NYADA, the same school Kurt was currently attending. He had been a musical theatre major, but had a steady job now, working the sound booth for a stable Broadway show, counting his days until the inevitable moment he would be discovered by one of the countless producers and directors running around the set.

He and Kurt, his boyfriend of a year, had just rented out this small apartment together. Rachel had proven to be a roommate spawned from Satan himself, so Kurt was relieved to be out of that fiasco, and in any case, Rachel was fine without him.

The rent was smaller on this apartment than it was on Kurt's previous abode, and with two people weighing in, the load would be much easier. Adam's old apartment had been trash, to say in the least, and though this home needed a bit of tender, love, and care, it was already two steps better; plus, he'd be living here with Kurt, so, Adam thought with a smile, it was more along the lines of ten steps better.

Adam snapped out of his reverie at the sound of boxes dragging across the hardwood floors. He looked over to see Kurt pulling a large box across the room, his chest puffing with a slight vigor. He looked to be building some sort of cave, or an igloo, from the boxes. Adam strode over. "What're you doing, love?"

"Well," Kurt said, slacking over one of the boxes, "I decided I didn't want to unpack today."

Adam paused, and then he said, teasingly, "That's a nice story, but I hope there's more to it."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yes, but then it occurred to me that our bed hasn't arrived yet, and it won't for another two days. I'm still pretty angry over that, you know, this is New York City – the city that never sleeps – but they can't manage to move our bed – the place where we sleep, ironically – in less than two days?" Adam grinned and kneeled down, crawling over to where Kurt was sprawled across a box.

"Anyways, I unpacked a few pillows and a couple blankets for our bed the next few days. I figured it would be more fun to sleep in a cave, so here we are. I'm building a cave."

"Or a castle."

Kurt grinned and nodded. "Castle is better."

Adam leaned his body over the box and caught Kurt's lips in a kiss. "You're my prince," he murmured through the kiss. Kurt blushed.

Hours later found the two giggling together underneath a canopy of boxes, no particular joke having been made, yet it was still just as sidesplitting. The blankets were spread out, on top of each other, to provide some sort of matting, and the pillows were strewn about with no regard to the belongings within the paper walls surrounding them.

* * *

Adam's hair, blonde, wavy, and loose, was falling into his eyes, and Kurt gently swiped it away with a smile. "You need a haircut, mister," he whispered playfully. Adam shook his head briskly, the hair previously moved now drifting, once again, into his eyes.

"I think you need to get your vision checked, my dear," he responded, pursing his lips and grinning when Kurt pecked them quickly, "as my hair is at a perfect length. There are so many hairstyles I can pull off with this hair. I can pull it up, and then it looks fantastic with a beanie, or, I suppose, I could leave it be and let you push it aside as you kiss me."

"So forward, aren't you?" Kurt asked softly. Adam shrugged and pulled the blanket up over their pajama-clad bodies. He wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist and snuggled closer to him.

"I think after all this time, I can be forward, can't I?" Adam responded, biting at Kurt's nose teasingly. Kurt stifled the squeak that bubbled from his lips in the fabric of his sleeve. Adam laughed and continued to place small nips to Kurt's nose, his ears, his lips. Kurt was chuckling and trying to squirm away from Adam's persistent mouth, but to no avail.

"Adam, Adam! I give, I give!" Kurt gasped with a wide grin. Adam ceased, and Kurt placed his hands on his shoulders. The laughter between the two died slowly in a pure decrescendo, and then the only sound that remained was their steady breathing and the lethargic tick of Adam's watch.

"You know," Kurt started, "I'm so happy about this – about us living together, I mean. I couldn't be more overjoyed. Is that too dramatic?"

"I love that about you, Kurt," Adam whispered, his watch the metronome to the melody in his voice, "and the same stands for me, here. I just adore the idea of waking up in the morning with you in my arms, to letting you bump me out of the way of the mirror, and to making us meals – just for the two of us."

"I love you so much," Kurt sighed contentedly, closing his eyes. Adam tilted his head down into the alcove of Kurt's neck, and placed a lingering kiss onto his collarbone.

"I love you, too," Adam murmured, letting his own eyes slide close, "my prince."

Adam was on the very drifts and waves of sleep when a faint voice from next to him roused him. Kurt was mumbling into Adam's hair. "Hmm? Kurt?" Adam whispered.

"Now that I think about it," Kurt yawned sleepily, his eyes remaining closed, "you don't need to cut your hair. I like the idea of pushing it aside when I kiss you."

Adam chuckled and placed his lips on Kurt's neck.


	2. His Calendar Boy

**A/B ****Guys… you rock my world. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**_The Pursued and the Tired_**

_Chapter 2 - His Calendar Boy_

Despite the stress and occupation of moving, Kurt still awoke early and dressed himself for the day. It was a dreary day in the city, grand ol' New York City, and because of this, Kurt felt his mood drop significantly. But, as Kurt stood in the middle of their near-barren apartment, the only furnishings being the high fashion their boxes provided, and as he glanced back towards his bed and reigning castle, towards his knight, he smiled. The rain had no place, whether it fell or not.

Adam and Kurt were polar opposites in only a few areas, the most significant being the time in which they rose from bed every day. Kurt was, and had always been, an early riser, whereas Adam was nothing short of a slug before noon. The clock around Kurt's neck sighed, "_Four more hours until he wakes up_."

Resisting the urge to sneak over and force him awake, Kurt decided to run down to the corner market and grab something for the two of them to have for breakfast. The refrigerator the movers placed in the middle of the room didn't arrive stacked with food, sure as it was.

Kurt tiptoed over to Adam, kneeled down, and wiped that overzealous hair from his sleepy eyes. Adam's once parted lips frowned – in the most pleasant of immature ways – and muttered what seemed to be bargains and soft persuasions under his breath. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Adam, I'm going to the market to buy us something to eat. I'll be back eventually, all right? Keep sleeping," Kurt whispered. Adam smiled and nodded, pursing his lips expectantly.

Kurt chuckled lightly but complied, leaning down to place a gentle kiss upon Adam's anticipating lips. He smiled and stood up. "I'll be back soon."

Adam was already asleep, snoring away as if he was powering the Earth.

This glorious city, flagrantly never sleeping, kept to its promise of playing God to the dreamers and the dreamless alike. With every step he took across the cracked pavement, he was reminded of two things, and how fortunately they had come to him. First was his lucky break into Vogue, and second was his – not so lucky – break into NYADA. The latter had been especially hard.

Yet, he had gotten in. Hell, he thought, it was where he had been taught more than stage presence within different sized theatres. It was where he had met Adam.

Before he had upped and moved to New York City, Kurt lived in the small town of Lima, Ohio. A common consensus among most Yorkers showed their lack of knowledge of Lima's presence, so much to the point that Kurt was beginning to question its own existence himself. It was there he lived his years like Hell.

Kurt had always been more outgoing, more intelligent, more, it seemed, of the good things in life. Such passion would never, and will never, be accepted in a town of that small of a proportion. That, added with Kurt's preference towards his own sex, rather than the opposite – as every other teenager exhibited every night in the back parking lot of Denny's – was not a good combination for Kurt. Lima made sure of that.

Kurt had only ever dated one other person – seriously, that is. There was a small rendezvous with a pretty, but dim, girl, but it had been a ruse to impress his father. In the end, it hadn't been necessary. Burt Hummel loved his son more than words could express. Their relationship remained strong.

Blaine Anderson. That was his name – Blaine Anderson. The very first boy Kurt dated, and, incidentally, the first person Kurt fell in love with. Over a series of completely heartbreaking events, they had broken up.

Now, as much as Rachel pouted and spoke dreamily of the old days, Blaine's name held no place on Kurt's lips.

Adam, upon their first encounter, had been the poster boy for over exuberance and charm. Coming out of a harsh separation, Kurt wasn't prepared for such livelihood; he was only prepared for slow, sad songs and the delightful color of gray. Adam had, with everything imaginable, changed that.

Their first date was coffee and an open mic; their second date had been a picnic in Central Park, in which they ate bread and the birds ate sushi; their third date was an exploration worthy of Hernán Cortés to all the supermarkets on the Upper East Side, where they, parenthetically, were living now; their fourth date was a night in with Santana and Rachel watching movies.

It had escalated from there, to say in the least. They were absolutely _smitten._

Kurt didn't think he would ever be happier more than he was with Blaine, but here he was: a living incarnation of that very beautiful, broken assumption. And everything was perfect.

Arriving to the market, Kurt quickly conjured up a list of basic groceries, to last them at least for the next few days. It was but a few minutes past eight o'clock in the morning, a sharp, Sunday morning, and the market wasn't too busy. He picked up a few pastries for breakfast, cringing slightly at the sticky crème, and placed them in his basket. He knew Adam was positively enamored with these inflated mounds of sugar. Of course, secretly, he was, too.

Picking up a few miscellaneous things, mostly energy foods for the awaiting day of unpacking, he checked out and strode slowly home. He was musing over ways to rouse Adam from bed, or perhaps getting himself in bed, when his phone gave an alert. Stopping, he pulled out his phone and opened the text message from Santana.

Santana Lopez was a new addition to Rachel's abode; she had once lived with him and Rachel, together, but as Kurt moved out, Santana stayed. They had grown closer, somehow, those two foils. Santana was a singer, just like Rachel and him, and was trying to break into the business – perhaps_ literally_ break into the business. Kurt was sure Santana had a bit of a past crime history on her.

The text message read, "_You'll never guess who's here. I lied about where you are, you're welcome."_

Kurt's eyebrows furrowed together, but thought nothing of it. He was sure his classmate Anthony wanted to drop by and pick up notes he had missed, but it was entirely possible Anthony didn't know Kurt moved. He'd have to text him later.

Quickly, he texted back, "_Tell Anthony I'll call him later. I guess he doesn't know my new address!"_

Kurt skipped up the steps of his apartment building, feet, for one second, teetering on the edge of the pavement. The new steps would take some time to get used to.

When he returned to his flat, Adam was still sleeping – snoring merrily away, in fact – and the clock had barely chimed nine. Surveying the room, and more specifically surveying the boxes upon boxes of unpacked belongings, Kurt sighed and decided Adam would have to settle with waking up before noon, for at least today. Before Kurt could rouse Adam from his lion nap, a new text message arrived to his phone.

"_It's not that peasant. Hey, don't worry your little head over it. He and Rachel are playing patty-cake as we speak. Talk to you later," _the text message read.

Kurt shrugged; he wasn't concerned over this new visitor in the slightest. This wasn't the first time Santana had told him he had a guest waiting for him, only for Kurt to arrive home and come face to face with a male stripper – Santana giggling like a madwoman in the background.

Adam seemed to have heard Kurt's message alert, because, with a rustle, he was struggling to sit up in the makeshift bed, rubbing at his eyes enough to blind. "Mmm, Kurt? Food?"

Kurt chuckled and took out the crème pastries from the bag. The absolutely delectable smell of the fresh bread wafted lazily over to Adam, and in what must have been a record of some sort, Adam was shuffling out of bed and striding quickly over to where Kurt was resting the breakfast upon an unopened box.

Kurt smiled, watching as Adam stuffed his mouth full of his pastry, picking bits of his own off to eat. Adam seemed to be completely unaware of anything but his empty stomach, and the pressing matter of filling it to, obviously, the maximum standard.

"Oh, Kurt, hey," Adam said suddenly, swallowing his mouthful of food quickly, "I forgot to remind you yesterday; NYADA is having their open house on Tuesday. Seven o'clock in the evening."

Kurt's eyes widened. "Damn, I completely forgot about that."

Adam smiled, brushing hair out of his face absently. "It's because you have too much on your plate, you know." He sighed dreamily, "Oh, Kurt, where would you be without me?"

Kurt leaned across the box to brush his nose against Adam's. "Most likely lost, wandering the streets of New York wondering where I'm supposed to be."

Adam's eyes twinkled. "Then just call me your little calendar boy."

Kurt laughed, and kissed Adam, tasting the crème on his smooth lips. "I think Rachel is going to the open house with that new guy she's dating – Owen, I think is his name? Do you want to come with me?"

Adam pushed aside the box between them, where their discarded trash remained, and pulled Kurt across the floor towards him with a loud laugh. "You don't even have to ask. Of _course_ I'll attend!"

Kurt laughed along with him and wriggled out of Adam's grasp of his waist. He stumbled to his feet, shaking his head happily, and pulled Adam to his feet with him. Harsh sunlight was beginning to peak through the beaten clouds, and the two turned towards the window. "I wanted us to stay in and unpack, but…"

Adam seemed to read Kurt's very mind. "But we should go out and appreciate this weather, at least for a bit?"

"Mmm, you suggested it, not me!" Kurt said, grinning. Adam smiled in return, grasping Kurt's hand and twirling him around. The two danced to invisible music, their hips bumping into the boxes and their feet slipping into something celebrated, quite a piece of work. The laughter bubbling from their chests provided the melody, the quick steps of their feet the beat, and the soft chirping of the birds mingled with the taxi cabs and the overall bustle that was the city was, well, that was just love.

The two were so wrapped within each other they didn't hear Kurt's phone alert him to a text message once more.

"_See you at the open house Kurt! I wouldn't miss it for the world,"_ Santana had texted.


End file.
